The other man laughed again, and wriggled as he laughed.
"No," she replied, "you can't come, I know; but I can take care of myself."
"It's a thieving, drunken lot of fellows Saul will fall in with. Ye may prefer their society to mine, but I'll not risk it."
"I can go to the minister."
"And his wife would make a kitchen-girl of ye, and ye'd run off from her in a week. If ye'd not stay here, where ye have it all your own way, it's not long that ye'd put up wi' my lady's fault-finding; and ministers and their wives isn't much better than other folks—I've told ye before what I think of that sort of truck."
There was a glitter in her eyes that would have startled him, but he did not see it. He was looking only at the wood he was cutting, but he never observed that he was cutting it. After a minute he uttered his conclusion.
"Ye'll stay wi' me."
"Stay with you," she cried, her breath catching at her words—"for how long?"
"I don't know." Complete indifference was in his tone. "Till ye're old,
I suppose; for I'm not likely to find a better place for ye."
All the force of her nature was in the words she cast at him.